


Mistletoe

by iprincealii



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iprincealii/pseuds/iprincealii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waiting for guests for Christmas dinner and the decor leads to a bit more than John was expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe

John and Sherlock were in the living room, enjoying some spiked eggnog as they waited for their Christmas guests to arrive. John had obnoxiously dressed in a ridiculous jumper, as he had every year Sherlock had known him, and been decorating the apartment with Christmastime things. He was hanging up some mistletoe as Sherlock poured John a third cup of eggnog, refilling his own cup. “John, why do you bother with these things? You know that everyone’s going to show up and either have a good or bad time, regardless of the way the apartment looks.” John huffed as he descended the step-ladder.

“I think they make the apartment brighter, not so macabre as you always have it.” John said, tucking the step-ladder beside the couch before accepting the cup Sherlock had refilled for him. “Thanks,” he said and raised his cup, “Cheers.” They clinked their cups together and took sips. John inhaled sharply, the drink a bit strong for him. Sherlock had made it and hadn’t really bothered to ask how strong to make it. Typical. Sherlock tilted his head to the side, glancing up at the mistletoe before looking back at John.

“Do you know where the mistletoe tradition started?” Sherlock asked, sipping at his eggnog. John rolled his eyes and sighed, sitting on the couch.

“No, but I don’t really care. I just want to have a nice evening, I don’t need any silly trivia tonight,” John said and Sherlock pressed his lips together.

“It’s a interesting bit of history,” Sherlock said, continuing anyway, swirling his drink. John rolled his eyes. “The kissing tradition we have now, was first found to be related to the Greek’s Saturnalia festival, later with primitive marriage rites. They had two beliefs that this probably originated from…” John exhaled sharply and stood, walking over to Sherlock.

“Yes, yes, all very interesting, but as I said Sherlock, it’s not exactly on the list of things I’d want to chat about right now. All right?” John asked and Sherlock grinned.

“Yes, of course not, forget the talking then.” Sherlock said and strode forward a step, closing the distance between them. John leaned his head away, eyeing Sherlock suspiciously.

“What are you doing?” John asked and looked at the strange look he’d never seen on Sherlock’s face. He could best acquaint it with the same hunger he seemed to have in his eyes when confronted with a puzzle that was particularly intruiging.

“We’re under the mistletoe John,” Sherlock said and John’s eyes tracked upward to the mistletoe. John swallowed out of nervousness, a bit uncomfortable with where the situation had turned. Sherlock seemed to be… flirting? Was that really what was going on here? John sputtered out bits of words, stepping backward a step, but not soon enough. Sherlock had caught the back of John’s head with his free hand and their lips were now touching. John’s eyes were shocked wide open and he could see that Sherlock was tense, but his eyes were closed and he seemed… well, he seemed to be enjoying himself. John rolled his eyes backward, closing his lids. He let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding and put a hand on Sherlock’s chest, about to push him away when he heard something crash to the ground.

“What the…” John said against Sherlock’s lips, breaking away and twisting around quickly to see what had fallen. He turned to see Molly, dressed in a cute little black dress and all dolled up. Her face was pained and she let out a nervous laugh, turning around and dashing back downstairs. Wrapped presents were scattered in the doorway.

“Molly, wait, it was because of the mistletoe!” John called, stepping forward to go after her. He stopped when he heard the front door slam. What a lame excuse that was. He should have said something else, but his mind was racing. Taking a deep breath, he whirled around to face Sherlock.

“What the bloody hell was that all about?” John demanded, and Sherlock raised his eyebrows, looking up at the mistletoe.

“I didn’t think there was any better reason to get you to kiss me,” Sherlock said simply, putting his free hand in his pocket, raising his eggnog to his lips. John was particularly flustered now, his face reddening.

“No, I mean why did you kiss me at all? I told you I’m not gay.” He said and Sherlock shrugged.

“I thought it was worth a shot, after all, first Christmas since Moriarty and there hasn’t been a single point where you blamed me for faking my death.” Sherlock said and looked away from John, rocking on his heels. “When I first came back… you just hugged me as tight as you could and do you remember what you said to me?” Sherlock asked. John blinked, slackjawed.

“Of course I know what I said.” John replied, stonefaced and unsteady. Sherlock wasn’t about to do what John thought he was, was he? Sherlock walked toward him and John took equal steps away, but Sherlock had longer legs, closing the distance. John swallowed hard, not looking at Sherlock. “Sherlock you’re freaking me out here, what’s all this about?” he asked. Sherlock’s lips were graced with the smallest of closed-lipped smiles.

“John, I will never leave you again,” he said and looked into John’s eyes. “I promise.” John looked back at Sherlock. It was scary how vulnerable Sherlock seemed as sat down his eggnog, not moving his gaze an inch. John could feel a lump in the back of his throat, but he grunted to clear it.

“Sherlock, you don’t have to do this, really, its unnecessary.” John said, his heart rate and breathing increasing as Sherlock was leaning closer again.

“It is necessary, John. You should know how much I do care about you, if only in this single moment and never again.” Sherlock said, speaking quietly. “I am… Truly…” he said still leaning slowly forward. “Madly…” John glanced between Sherlock’s lips and his eyes. John was scared, but excitedly anticipated Sherlock’s every last word. Sure, he wasn’t gay, but Sherlock was being open and honest for what seemed like the first time. He was exposing himself to John in a way that John had never seen before. Even whenever Sherlock had been mourning for Irene – he had never once spoke about it to John.

“Deeply yours,” Sherlock whispered, closing the distance between his lips and John’s cheek. He paused there for a brief moment and then leaned away, smiling. “Want some crisps?” he asked non-chalantly, raising his eyebrows and walking away toward the kitchen, leaving John to wonder what the hell just happened.


End file.
